


analysis pending

by wbtrashking (fan_nerd)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blowjobs, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, M/M, Oral Fixation, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 06:38:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15551865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fan_nerd/pseuds/wbtrashking
Summary: “My most advanced sensors are located in my oral cavity,” Connor says, fidgeting a little. He’s always moving—always restless. Typically, it’s endearing. Right now, Hank fears that he may have to get a collar for his stupid android. “I find the sensation of filing erroneous details away oddly fascinating, and I would like to continue exploring the full potential of this ability.”“Okay,” Hank momentarily allows. “What’s the real reason?”Connor makes a whiny noise in the back of his throat.





	analysis pending

**Author's Note:**

> why does connor lick his fingers Like That,,
> 
> a quickfic dedicated to my pals [cece](https://twitter.com/bunnyforov) and [tira](https://twitter.com/tiramisuwrites)! stop encouraging me, you jerks ( •̀ω•́ )σ ♡

Hank wonders if maybe he’s starting to go senile early.

He must be. There’s no way that Connor is _actually_ trying to climb in his lap, attempting to stuff Hank’s fingers into his mouth.

Unfortunately, he’s still sane and Connor is still there, insistently stroking Hank’s chest and making those sweet eyes, like he’ll get what he wants if he just looks desperate enough.

The cop swats the android’s hand off of his wrist, wrinkling his brow. “Let _go_ , Jesus fuck.”

Connor waits exactly one second before flicking his tongue out and craning his neck, giving up on Hank’s hand and aiming for his solid forearm instead. He gets one good swipe in before Hank pulls him away by the back of his head, fingers tightly locked in Connor’s curls.

Blue eyes sternly study dark brown eyes, searching for a hint of remorse. Connor huffs and pouts. “Why are you so obsessed with lickin’ me?”

“My most advanced sensors are located in my oral cavity,” Connor replies, sitting back on his heels, absently pawing at Hank’s trousers. He’s always moving—always restless. Typically, it’s endearing. Right now, Hank fears that he may have to get a collar for his stupid android. “I find the sensation of filing erroneous details away oddly fascinating, and I would like to continue exploring the full potential of this ability.”

“Okay,” Hank momentarily allows. “What’s the real reason?”

Connor makes a whiny noise in the back of his throat. “What does it matter?” Hank cradles the back of Connor’s head gingerly, watching the android’s eyelids flutter before speaking again. “It is… _arousing_ to explore things in such a way, with my tongue. Please, won’t you let me?”

Hank’s casual petting stops. It’s a weird request—Connor has to know that. But he’s waiting patiently for Hank to say yes or no this time before he jams the cop’s clammy, thick fingers between his lips.

He spares another moment to examine himself. He’s filthy after a long day at work, bumming around in a ratty old t-shirt and his boxers. “You sure you don’t want me to take a shower first?”

Connor pulls a face.

Hank drags a hand down his face and sighs. “Alright, you don’t have to pout. Go ahead, you gross weirdo.”

“My studies show that finger-sucking is a quite common and prevalent bedroom activity among couples in the United States—”

A splotchy blush breaks across the cop’s face as he interrupts the android. “ _Oh my god_ , just shut up and do it. I don’t wanna know what kinda kinky shit you’ve been researching. I said yes, didn’t I?”

So Connor grows quiet and nods, smiling shyly as he lifts Hank’s arm up. “You won’t regret this,” he says, unhinging his jaw and drawing Hank’s fingers into his mouth.

His movements are methodical, like always. His teeth scrape against the digits, immediately categorizing all the parts and pieces. Middle phalanx. Distal interphalangeal. Once his processors move past the anatomy, Connor begins to analyze the other clues.

Milk fat. Protein. Garlic. Tomatoes. Sugar. He’d eaten pizza earlier, wiped some of the grease on his boxers. He smells a little sour now, but Connor just hums, draws Hank’s left pinky into the mix with the index and thumb already hesitantly twitching inside of his mouth. Connor says, “You can move them,” his voice clear, even though he’s drooling all over Hank’s hand. “I don’t have a gag reflex either. Go as far as you want.”

Hank grumbles a little. “Don’t like when you throw your voice like that. Gives me the spooks.” Still, despite his complaints, he takes the android up on his offer, feeling the ridges of Connor’s teeth.

The texture of his saliva is close enough to the real thing—maybe a little thicker than normal, more syrupy. It is _incredibly_ satisfying for Hank to feel the roof of Connor’s mouth, feeling the android hum.

These affected mannerisms—the heavy-lidded bedroom eyes, the focused intent, the LED flickering yellow—what else is Hank supposed to do other than get lost in it? “If you wanna keep going, it’s fine.”

Connor jumps at the permission, moving from Hank’s thick fingers to his hairy thighs. The android _has_ learned something from these past few weeks of living with Hank in the wake of the revolution. While he’s exploring, slobbering all over Hank’s legs, he slips Hank’s boxers down, cradling his balls gently when he brings his hand back up. Hank is slightly annoyed, Connor’s spit trail making him shiver as it cools. Jesus, the bot’s gonna lick him clean at this rate.

He allows Connor to explore until he gets down to his foot. The cop draws his right leg back quickly. “Seriously, my toes?”

“They’re a part of you,” Connor gently answers, looking far too excited about the prospect. “Please?”

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ think that begging is going to get you whatever you want.” Even as he says the words, Hank knows that he’s going to give in. Connor’s already opening his mouth.

Connor looks pleased as a peach. Hank could kick him.

He does, just to see how the android reacts. It’s barely a jerk of a motion, more reflex than anything, but Connor bucks a little bit, and he moans. It startles both of them. Hank takes it a little further, wiggling his toes and watching Connor desperate to flick his tongue between the spaces. He pulls back to suck at Hank’s heel, making him writhe, the human biting back his urge to giggle.

“You really _are_ hot for this,” Hank says, breathless from all the attention. “Jesus, my _feet_?”

Connor has the decency to feign embarrassment. “There’s a lot to analyze. Did you know that your arch is beginning to flatten?”

Hank is _done_. He grabs Connor’s arm, using his well-earned strength to yank the android up on his knees. “Well, great. I’ll get some orthopedic shoes later. Now, _enough_. You’ve licked me everywhere else for your pleasure. You’re okay with my feet, but my cock is ground zero?”

“Give me a moment to cleanse my mouth,” Connor replies, honesty and genuine emotion making his words carry weight. “Apologies, lieutenant, and thank you. For letting me do that.”

Running a hand through Connor’s soft curls, Hank huffs. “Whatever.” He’s as terrible at expressing his gratitude as he ever was. He watches patiently as Connor sits there and gazes off in the distance, dredging up a solution to quite literally wash his mouth out.

Once he’s finished, he flashes Hank one of his earnest, sincere smiles. He pretends to tuck stray hairs behind one ear, dutifully closing his eyes and swallowing Hank’s dick down quickly, nose pressed up against Hank’s gut.

Hank nearly chokes, startled at the pace of the action. He’s stuck scrambling, trying to figure out the best way to repay Connor for all his help, and by way of freak accident, he scratches the android’s shoulder and earns a lewd noise for the effort.

He’s running on little to no evidence, cock getting expert attention, and he’s five good bobs away from nutting in Connor’s pretty little mouth, but he adjusts one of his legs, lightly pushing his heel into Connor’s groin.

There’s no dick there, he knows, but it still feels weird, like he should be worrying about hurting Connor’s family jewels. Connor, however, seems plenty pleased about this course of action, and he grabs Hank’s calf, edging his teeth against Hank’s cock, wielding them as a threat.

Hank rolls his eyes and digs in the second time, pulling Connor back by the nape. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We work together, right? _Partners_. You’re the one who’s so obsessed with reminding me of that.”

Connor dazedly nods.

“You want me to do this for you, I’ll do it. Put your goddamn teeth away, you nightmare.”

“I can’t be a nightmare if you’re not sleeping, Hank,” Connor says, vocal processors throwing his voice again while his mouth is full. Annoying, overconfident android. Hank begrudgingly adores him.

The two of them quickly work out a rhythm. Connor frequently stops in place, using processing and analysis as excuses, but Hank _knows_. Hell, he’s feeling much the same way. Too turned on to see straight, eyes crossed, and for what? Hank’s foot jammed between his legs, grinding on the android’s crotch like it’s gravel to be crushed.

Hank’s cock is thick and flushed, come hitting the back of Connor’s throat in a rush. He just presses on, hollowing out his cheeks. He encircles Hank’s dick with his index finger and thumb, siphoning the dregs of ejaculate until Hank forcibly pushes him off—it hurts at that point, Connor attempting to suck him dry while he’s soft and spent.

Once his head is clear enough, he studies Connor. He’s disheveled, stunned silent, staring down at himself. Even _he_ seems surprised by how his body is reacting, still tremblingly slightly.

Hank leans down, patting Connor’s back. “Relax, kid. It takes a while to get used to it, to come down from the high. Take all the time you need.”

Maybe it was too much too fast—too much indulgence.

Or _not_.

A couple minutes later, once both of them have gotten cleaned up and Hank has decided to go to sleep, Connor murmurs a soft question. “Do you think I could stick both of your hands in my mouth at the same time, Lieutenant?”

Hank only groans, slapping the android in the face. “One kink at a time, you fucking weirdo. Go to _sleep_.”

He’s lucky that Connor doesn’t say something mouthy, as is typical of him. Something like, _I don’t require_ _sleep, Hank_.

Oddly enough, he just tells Hank to have a good night, snuggling in next to him with no extra fuss.

It’s the one bonus of letting Connor explore and treating him well.

He behaves. No more questions. He slows his artificial breathing and closes his eyes, LED settling on a nice, calm blue.

 _Now that_ , Hank thinks to himself before drifting off, _I could get used to_.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! ♡
> 
> →[twitter](https://twitter.com/wbtrashking)  
> →[art/writing tumblr](https://wtkdigest.tumblr.com/)  
> →[main tumblr](http://wbtrashking.tumblr.com/)  
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